“For a little while,” Hadley interjects.
I slide my hand over Hadley’s and tuck it over my forearm, hoping she feels that I’m not only standing right here beside her, but we’re facing this together, and I get right to the point. “We’ve actually come to speak to your husband. Do you mind if we steal him away for a few minutes?”
“Oh?” Sarah’s eyes widen as she looks at her husband, who has been standing in silence, statue-still.
The congressman looks at me, obviously sizing me up.
I smile the threat I wish to unleash on him.
Westhaven quickly turns to his wife. “Yes, dear, I asked them to meet me here tonight to go over a couple things. Why don’t you get us some drinks?”
“Of course,” she says with clear hesitation, now looking a little more suspiciously at Hadley and me.
The congressman leans in and kisses Sarah’s cheek. “I won’t be long. Promise.”
I keep my expression neutral, not wanting to upset a very lovely woman who probably doesn’t deserve the terrible marriage she’s been handed. When I give Hadley a quick glance, she looks about a second away from vomiting all over Westhaven’s shoes.
Sarah turns to us and smiles. “Again, a pleasure. Enjoy your evening.”
“You as well.” I return the smile.
Only once she’s out of hearing distance does the scumbag who’s just rattled two women acknowledge us. “Follow me,” he snaps with a glare.
When he turns, I give Hadley a nod, proud of how well she held it together. In silence, we follow behind him as he leads us through the ballroom, happily smiling and waving at those he passes, putting on a perfectly good show.
Once we’re out of the ballroom, Westhaven waves off his security and leads us down to the service stairwell at the end of the hallway. I glance behind me, seeing that his guard hasn’t followed. Regardless of the order he gave, I shake my head in disappointment. My client would have eyes on him at all times, unless he was in a classified meeting or in the safe haven I created for him at home.
We enter through the door to the service stairwell, and the moment the heavy steel door shuts, Westhaven spins around and all but growls, “You shouldn’t have come here.” Palpable anger is evident in his voice as he leans against the steel railing across from us and crosses his arms. “Tell me what you want from me so we can get this over with. I will not let you hurt my wife.”
Hadley jerks her head to me, nose scrunched in confusion. I’m right there with her, and I turn to Westhaven with a frown. “Excuse me?”
“What do you want?” the congressman repeats, voice hard. “Money? Is that what you’re after? I don’t have as much as people think I do, but I can get you some—”
I raise my hand, stopping his rambling, a sudden realization dawning on me. “Do you think we are
blackmailing you?”
“Aren’t you?” Westhaven scoffs.
“Wait. What? No.” Hadley gasps, shaking her head. “I’m being blackmailed, and I came here tonight to find out who you hired to hack me.”
A pause. Then Westhaven sighs. “I take that to mean the other man in the video with us is behind this?”
I part my lips to respond, but take a minute to catch up. Westhaven being blackmailed was the last thing I expected to find tonight. “Are you saying that you don’t know who the man in the video is?”
“No, I do not,” Westhaven replies.
“Please explain to me how that is possible?” I find that hard to believe.
The congressman draws in a long, deep breath and shoves his hands into his pockets. “I received an invitation in my locker at the club that invited me to the night at the hotel. Since I’m the one usually inviting people, it was…well, a tempting offer.” He hangs his head, scraping his shoe against the cement floor. “Listen, my wife…” He looks up at us, expression twisted and troubled. “She doesn’t know about my particular tastes. And she can’t know. Not ever. I won’t do that to my family or to her.”
While I’d like to point out how selfish that is and that his sexual tastes are nothing to be ashamed of, I don’t, and focus on Hadley in all this. She’s the only thing that matters to me. “You have no idea who sent the invitation?”
He shakes his head. “Believe me, if I knew, he’d be in jail.”
Hadley glances between the congressman and me, then asks, “I know what the man wants from me, but what does he want from you? Does it have to do with my father?”
“Your father?” Westhaven’s eyes widen. “No, not at all.” He glances up and down the staircase, clearly worried about being overheard, and then quietly says to us, “About a week ago, a message popped up on my screen that said I needed to deliver the video to a car parked near the bay, and if I didn’t, all of my secrets would be exposed to the media.”